


to face the burning heat

by ShowMeAHero



Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [14]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Couple, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Necromancy, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 16:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21461230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: Eddie hears it crystal-clear when Stan says, “Eddie, I— I think I’m freaking out.”“Slow down,” Eddie says. He looks nervously over to Richie to find him sitting up, still holding Audrey up against his chest as he talks quickly into the phone to Patty. He looks to Eddie and furrows his eyebrows like he’s confused. “What do you mean, you’re freaking out? Freaking out about what? Where are you?”“I’m at the park,” Stan tells him. “I’m— Will you come?"
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: as the ghost begins to bleed [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493912
Comments: 24
Kudos: 369





	to face the burning heat

**Author's Note:**

> this came from an _incredibly_ detailed concept from lauryn that i just had to write for her. she put so much work into the concept!! she's earned this!!
> 
> plus, we've earned some tender comfort content after last time!
> 
> Title taken from ["Work Song"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nH7bjV0Q_44) by Hozier.

Eddie allows himself one morning a week that he can sleep in, and he always chooses Sunday, because that’s Richie’s only full day off. He lets Richie roll onto him, kiss him softly, cupping Eddie’s face in his sleep-warm hands and murmuring about how much he loves him against his mouth. Sleep-bleary Richie is a wonderfully honest Richie, who doesn’t have enough self-consciousness yet to feel weird about the stuff he tells Eddie.

“You have such soft hair,” Richie mumbles, pressing his face into said hair. Eddie laughs as Richie threads his fingers up through his hair, too, fucking it up beyond all comprehension, he’s sure. “Mm, you smell like sunshine.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie asks. “Sunshine doesn’t have a smell.”

“Yes, it does.” Richie pulls him in closer, rolls so he’s on his back and Eddie’s sprawled across his chest. He buries his face in Richie’s throat. “Warm and soft and small.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbles. Long fingers wrap around his chin and tip it up to kiss him again; Richie smiles against his lips, gentle, close-mouthed. Audrey starts to make a quiet sound, delicate.

“She’s awake,” Richie whispers. He shifts, and Eddie sits up to give him enough space to get out of bed. Richie leans up and over the bassinet, lifting her up so lightly and smoothly that she barely even fusses at him.

“How the fuck did you get so good at that?” Eddie asks, and Richie grins back at him. He settles back against the headboard, Audrey laid across his chest. She makes a whimpering little sound into his shoulder, so he just rubs her back, slowly. Eddie’s hypnotized by it.

“Practice makes perfect, dollface,” Richie says, winking theatrically. “That’s what happens when you make me a housewife.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and leans up against the headboard beside him, dropping his head on Richie’s bare shoulder. He reaches out, sets his hand against Audrey’s cheek, then reaches down to feel her pulse thrumming in her neck.

“Do you ever…” Eddie starts to ask, then stops.

“Mm?”

“Kind of a stupid question,” Eddie says, “considering it’s sort of a… unique experience, I guess, but do you ever think it’s crazy you’re alive?”

Richie gives him the consideration the question has earned, which is good of him. He hums thoughtfully, then answers, “Yeah. After all that shit with the Deadlights, it’s kind of weird to think about. Even before that— I don’t know, I wasn’t the sort of guy you’d expect to live past forty.”

“Don’t say that,” Eddie admonishes, sitting up. “That’s not true.”

“It’s sort of super true,” Richie says. “Functional alcoholic becoming less functional with time, trying all sorts of fun new drugs, fucking all kinds of fun new dudes. It’s a miracle I’m not dead already, actually. Wouldn’t it have sucked, if I’d died at, like, twenty-five? Fuck the ritual to kill the fucking clown, am I right?”

Eddie’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms, because his brain’s stuck on _ “It’s a miracle I’m not dead already,” _and the idea that he might have met back up with the Losers in Derry only to find out Richie had killed himself only a couple of years out of high school.

“Eds?” Richie asks. Eddie shakes his head. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, babe. Hey, look at me,” he says, and tips Eddie’s face towards him with the hand not holding Audrey in place. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re fine,” Eddie says. “I just— I don’t know, I’d— I didn’t put too much thought into it, like that, I guess. It’s… Richie, I…”

“Take your time.” Richie tells him, and means it, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of Eddie’s hand.

“I _ did _ die,” Eddie says, because he fucking _ did, _ he’d been dead and it had been absolute nothing. A complete cessation of consciousness, no time at all, and then he was back, looking into Richie’s dripping wet face, and there had been pain, but he was _ alive. _ It's terrifying to think of a permanent nothingness, and sometimes it makes his bones itch to think that he's _ supposed _ to be dead. That if Richie wasn't exactly who Richie is, he wouldn't be here right now, and he wouldn't even _ know _ it.

"Hey," Richie says, "Eds, honey, come back to me."

"I'm sorry," Eddie manages. Richie pulls him into his side, and Eddie makes eye contact with Audrey. She's getting better at following motion with her big dark eyes, such a sweet black hazel and nebulous blue. Eddie smiles at her, and she smiles back. "Richie, I'm— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— to space out like that, it just, it freaks me out sometimes. Thinking about it all. Remembering."

"That's fair," Richie says. "It's okay. You're working on it, we’re all working on stuff.”

“You sound like Rita,” Eddie tells him.

“Good, then I’m finally making fucking sense,” Richie replies. When Eddie looks up at him, Richie smiles, so soft and warm and sleep-lined that Eddie’s heart jumps. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Eddie says. He drops his head against Richie’s shoulder and reminds himself that he _ is _alive, that there’s no point in wasting time panicking about being dead because, hopefully, he’s going to be very old the next time he dies, and he’ll stay dead, like he’s supposed to. He might as well just be as present as he can in every day until then.

He says all that to Richie, who laughs softly before he makes a sound that resonates in them both. Audrey sighs, and Eddie feels like Richie understands him, in a way nobody else can. Maybe he can, maybe he can’t; maybe Eddie’s projecting, or maybe Richie’s a witch, or maybe a thousand other things. But, also, maybe they’re just stupid in love and they’ve known each other since they were literally born a day apart.

“That makes sense,” Richie finally answers. He shifts, so Eddie turns, twisting up so he can press his face into Richie’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too,” Eddie says. “Thanks.”

“Thank _ you,” _ Richie says, then drops into a husky Transylvanian voice, says, “The pleasure of your company is all _ ours, _my friend—”

“Shut up,” Eddie cuts him off. “Shut it, shut up, you’re being—”

“Shh,” Richie says, and Eddie actually stops because Richie’s lifting his phone up off the nightstand and handing it over to him. It’s Stan, and Eddie picks up with a frown.

“Hello?” Eddie asks, as Richie’s phone starts ringing, too. Richie picks it up, mouthing, _ It’s Patty, _at Eddie before saying “Hey, Patty, what’s up?”

Eddie climbs out of bed and paces to the opposite side of the room to hear Stan better, since Richie’s no longer six inches from his ear, so he hears it crystal-clear when Stan says, “Eddie, I— I think I’m freaking out.”

“Slow down,” Eddie says. He looks nervously over to Richie to find him sitting up, still holding Audrey up against his chest as he talks quickly into the phone to Patty. He looks to Eddie and furrows his eyebrows like he’s confused. “What do you mean, you’re freaking out? Freaking out about what? Where are you?”

“I’m at the park,” Stan tells him. “I’m— Will you come? I’ll text you an address, I just don’t— Please don’t say anything to anyone else, Eddie, please, I— I’m—”

“Hey, Stan, it’s gonna be okay, don’t worry about it, I’ll come, it’s alright,” Eddie hurries to assure him. “I’m on my way, alright, send me the address and I’m coming.”

“Make up an excuse,” Stan says. “Tell Richie you’re— I don’t know, going to the store.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, even though Richie’s making dead eye contact with him and there’s really not going to be a way to get out of telling the truth to him. “Text me the address, Stan. I’m coming, it’s going to be fine.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Stan says, and it sounds like his voice almost breaks before he says, “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

The line goes dead before Eddie can respond, beeping in his ear. He pulls the phone away and Richie says, “He’s off the phone, I’ll ask him.”

“I can’t tell you,” Eddie says. “He asked me not to.”

Richie considers this, then taps the _ mute _button for his phone’s microphone and asks, “Is he safe?”

“He said he’s freaking out, but he’s in a park and he wants me to come meet him to help,” Eddie says. “But if he asks, tell him I told you I was going to the store. You don’t know anything.”

Richie huffs a laugh, but it’s not quite real enough. “Roger dodger.” He unmutes his microphone and says, “False alarm, Stan’s just fine, he’ll be home soon. No, no, it’s okay, do you— Yes, of—”

“Is she coming over?” Eddie asks, and Richie nods. Eddie leans in and kisses him on the crown of his head; Richie leans into him, sighing, still so warm and a little bleary, a little smudged around the edges. He wishes he didn’t have to go, not while there’s still time to be spent like this, but Stan’s voice is ringing in his ears still.

Eddie dresses quickly, stuffs himself into any clothes he finds and tugs on one of Richie’s sweaters over it. Richie motions to him with a fist, and Eddie comes over just to get yanked in by the collar of the sweater.

“Love you,” Richie breathes against his lips, barely speaking, almost just mouthing it for how quiet he’s trying to be while Patty talks on the phone with one hand and holds Audrey in the other. Eddie pulls him in, abruptly enough that Richie has to hold his phone further away from their heads. He runs his hand down over Richie’s chest, the softness of his body as he pushes into Eddie’s hands without even thinking twice.

“Love you,” Eddie murmurs back. “I’m gonna take Riley with me, okay? Divide and conquer.”

“Is that okay, Richie?” Patty’s voice asks faintly on the phone. Richie clears his throat.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Richie replies to both of them, voice breaking off at the end when Eddie cups his face in his hands and kisses him on the forehead. Eddie loves him so fucking much, he could choke on it.

“I’ll be back soon,” Eddie whispers, before he kisses Audrey on the forehead and backs away. “I’ll text you where I’m going.”

_ “Bye,” _Richie mouths. Eddie takes one last look at him, cross-legged on the bed, Audrey cradled in one arm and nestled against his bare chest; his hair long, curling, and sleep-messed still; his face a little scruffy, rubbing at his cheek when he yawns, dislodging his glasses as he does. “Yeah, of course, Patty, it’s alright.”

Eddie slips out, closing the door with a soft _ click _behind himself. He checks his phone for the address from Stan, and it’s actually not all that far away, so he grabs Riley and straps her into the baby carrier across his chest rather than bothering with getting her into and out of the car. She goes easily, shouting happily when she sees him and patiently enduring him slathering her with sunscreen. He sticks baseball hats and sunglasses on both of them before he feels ready enough to leave the house with her.

It’s a fifteen minute walk, but it’s perfectly nice outside. Eddie tries not to be concerned about climate change and global warming and the planet dying, and instead enjoys the sunshine and keeps up a running commentary to Riley as he walks.

“See that?” Eddie asks, pointing with one hand. Riley’s got his left hand locked in a death grip, small fingers wrapped around two of his, and he doesn’t want to dislodge her and have her let go. “That’s way too close to park to a fire hydrant, they’re going to get a ticket if a cop comes by. Or, worse, you know, God forbid there’s a fire, and then fire truck comes and they can’t get to the hydrant, and the whole block burns down.”

“Fire truck,” Riley repeats.

“Exactly,” Eddie replies, because Richie keeps telling him to encourage her when she echoes things they say. The sun’s shining down on them both, and it catches in the pond they walk past, reflecting onto them. Riley just laughs, unaffected with the prescription sunglasses she’s got wrapped around her head; Eddie kisses the top of the soft baseball hat covering her head.

“Daddy,” Riley says.

“What’s up?” Eddie asks, but she doesn’t elaborate. “Oh, right, sorry. Anyways, if the whole block burned down, you know, then where would they be? There’s a reason we have those laws, you know, they didn’t just make up some arbitrary number, as much as Richie’s stupid conspiracy theories might lead you to believe. Actually, if you never listen to your dad’s stupid conspiracy theories, that would be great. Then I wouldn’t have to spend _ any _time undoing all the fucking—”

“Eddie?” he hears a voice call, and he looks up to see Stan pacing near a bench at the very end of the pond. He starts off for him at a light jog and almost collides with him before he notices Riley. When Riley notices Stan in return, she reaches up for him, and Eddie gives Stan the go-ahead to take her out.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” Stan says quietly. Riley lays her head against Stan’s shoulder, looking out at the water still. “I didn’t mean to— I know it’s your day off.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says. He lets Stan take the lead, follows him over to the bench he’d been pacing near. After a moment of hesitation, Stan sits down, so Eddie does, too, slipping the baby carrier off his arms and folding it up carefully next to them on the bench. “I— I mean, I don’t know if you want to talk about it, or anything. Richie’s usually the one who’s better at talking about things, I think.”

“I—” Stan starts, then stops. “I— Did Patty call you?”

“No,” Eddie says. “Well— Yeah, actually, she called Richie, but I didn’t talk to her. Richie just told her you were safe, but I don’t know what she was asking or saying to him.”

Stan exhales, running his fingers through his hair. Riley clings to his shirt, trying to undo the buttons. Eddie tries to shove down the anxiety of watching her without someone’s hand at her back, getting distracted enough that when Stan says, “I didn’t mean to scare her,” he almost forgets what they’re talking about.

“What happened?” Eddie asks. Stan looks down at the top of Riley’s head, rather than at anyone or anything in particular. Riley just sighs softly, leaning her head further forward to tug at the buttons.

“I just— I think I’m freaking out.”

“You said that,” Eddie says. “About what?”

“I just— we were _ dead,” _ Stan says desperately, and Eddie understands. He wonders how far Richie’s witchcraft or energies or _ whatever _it is extends into him and Stan, because sometimes Richie will say Stan’s name and Stan will knock on the door, and sometimes Eddie will be thinking about Stan just to get a text from him the next minute. It’s uncanny, but more than that, it’s really not feeling like coincidence anymore.

“I was just talking about this with Richie,” Eddie says. “Really, I was.”

“What did he say?” Stan asks, almost eagerly. “I don’t— I know nobody would be able to understand but you. Sometimes it feels like none of this should be real, you know? But Richie’s— He brought us back. And he’s _ Richie. _Sometimes Patty just can’t— She doesn’t understand, not like you do.”

“I know,” Eddie tells him. “I do, I know. Richie— Well, he mostly just agreed with me, which, first time for everything, looks like he finally got two brain cells to rub together, but still. We mostly said, you know, that remembering being dead, it sucks. I don’t know, it was pretty much nothing to be dead, and I’m kind of terrified— No, I’m just terrified, just really, really scared of dying.”

“Me, too,” Stan admits softly.

“I did it once and I don’t want to do it again,” Eddie says. “And I get stuck in my head about it sometimes, thinking that we shouldn’t be here, that none of this should be real and I should be dead and maybe I _ am _ dead or I’m hallucinating or something, or maybe that I’ll end up like _ Final Destination _and I’ll get speared by a log off a truck on the highway because I cheated death, but then I just…” Eddie trails off, then stops. He wants to make it count. Looking down at Riley, at the morning sunlight glinting off her sunglasses and the dark shade of her eyes underneath, at the roundness of her face, at the concentration in the furrow of her brow as she works out Stan’s top button.

“You just what?” Stan asks. Eddie snaps out of it, but keeps looking at Riley.

“I just look at them, and I’m okay,” Eddie says. “I know I’m going to die eventually, but if I wasn’t here right now, she wouldn’t be, either. And I just look at her. Just _ look _at her, Stan. You know? And I look at Richie, and Audrey, and I— I can’t imagine wasting another second that I get with them. I already cheated death, you know? I may as well keep playing the odds. I—” Eddie starts to get choked up, and his instinct is to shove it down, but he remembers every time Richie insists he let himself feel his feelings without judging himself. With a frustrated groan, he buries his face in his hands.

“Eddie?” Stan’s hand touches his back.

“I’m supposed to be dead,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m supposed to be dead. I _ was _ dead. I should still _ be _ dead. It’s sometimes so mind-boggling to me that I’m alive that I seriously consider the reality where I might actually be getting _ Truman Show’d _right now.”

Stan huffs a laugh. “I’ve actually thought that, too.”

“Right?” Eddie says. “But, Stan, here’s the thing. If it is _ The Truman Show, _ or if it’s a dream, or if it’s— I don’t know, Heaven or Purgatory or the afterlife, or if it just really is absolute real life — and I’m thinking it is, because it feels pretty fucking real compared to what being dead was like…” Eddie trails off, then remembers where he was going with this. “My point is, no matter what this is, we have it. Right? It’s better than nothing. Death’s nothing. This is _ something.” _

Stan’s quiet for a moment. Then, he nods, and tears start slipping down his face. He stifles a sob with a weird little laugh, shaking his head. “Fuck. I’m not coping, Eds. I’m having a hard time. I woke up at four in the morning and started thinking about how I was supposed to be dead and I— I didn’t like the things I was thinking, so I just got up and got in the car and— and then I was here, freaking out. This sucks. It fucking _ sucks.” _

“I know,” Eddie says. “I know. It’s fucking hard, Stan. Are you— I’m sorry, man, I’m just gonna ask, because it’s you and I’m me, so, are you seeing a therapist? Or anything?”

“Yeah,” Stan tells him. “But I— I can’t tell him that much, you know? How can I tell him that I— I’m terrified of what I see when I close my eyes, that I’m scared I’ll die or that I’ll wake up and see It again or that I won’t be allowed to have kids or that I’ll lose Patty or—”

“Stop, stop that,” Eddie says, as Stan starts to spiral into panic. Stan pulls away, tugs Riley’s baseball hat off her head and buries his face in her hair. Eddie puts his hand on his shoulder, then internally decides to do whatever he wants and scoots in to wrap his arms around Stan and Riley.

“I’m so scared, Eddie,” Stan confesses. “I don’t even know what I’m scared of. I’m just— I don’t want to lose what I have.”

“Nobody does,” Eddie says. “Everyone’s scared of that, Stan. I mean, the thing with us is, we _ know _ what it’s like. We know what it’s like to lose everything, and they don’t, so it makes _us_ fight fucking harder to keep it. They can only imagine what we know. But we know it. We have to _ use _ it, you know, to not— to not waste that, because that’s, that’s some fucking _ insane _shit.”

“Richie,” Stan huffs.

“Richie,” Eddie agrees. “He brought us back, yeah, but you have to live the life afterwards. He doesn’t live that for you. It’s fucking hard, but you’re not alone. It’s you and me, and Richie if you want, and— Fuck, I mean, anyone if you want. All of us or none of us, but we’re here for you.” Eddie tightens his grip, then adds, “Me, especially.”

Stan laughs tearfully, then starts crying in earnest, turning his face so he’s buried between Riley’s hair and Eddie’s forearm. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die for a long, _ long _time, Stanley Uris,” Eddie tells him. It feels right, feels that bone-deep in the way he’s only ever heard Richie unsuccessfully try to describe to him before.

“Think so?” Stan asks, rubbing at his face with the back of his wrist.

“I fucking know so,” Eddie says. “What, you think I’m just making shit up? I have no patience for shit like that, Stanley. I’ll tell you what you need to hear straight to your face.”

“Stanley,” Riley repeats. Stan starts crying all over again, and Riley just looks alarmed, glancing towards Eddie to gauge what her reaction to this is supposed to be. He laughs, so she smiles a little, obviously confused when she looks back towards Stan. Eddie pulls back just in time for Stan to tug her in to hug tightly.

“Do you want to go home?” Eddie asks. Stan nods.

“In a second, though,” Stan says. “Just— Can we?”

“Take all the time you need,” Eddie tells him. “I don’t have anywhere to be. It’s my day off, remember?”

“Where’s family dinner supposed to be tonight?” Stan asks, because he only belatedly remembers that Eddie’s day off means Sunday, and Sunday means family dinner.

“Bev and Ben’s,” Eddie reminds him. “You sure you’re okay? Nobody’ll mind if you wanna skip out today. We all have off days, you know, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Mental health is just as important as physical health to your all-around well-being, so if you’re having a hard time mentally or emotionally it’s gonna make your immune system just fucking plummet and before you know it, you’re gonna end up with the fucking flu this season—”

“I don’t know how you could somehow reach all the way to me getting flu from me freaking out about being brought back from the fucking dead,” Stan says, “but if anyone fucking would, Eddie Kaspbrak, it’s _ you.” _

“Insufferable,” Eddie says. “You’re spending too much time with Richie.”

_ “You’re _spending too much time with Richie,” Stan replies. “You’re too good for him.”

Eddie smiles, then looks back at the pond water. He leans back against the bench, Riley reaching for him as he goes; he catches her hand in his, lets her play with his fingers as he says, “Nah, I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” Stan agrees quietly. He leans into Eddie, resting his head on his shoulder after a moment. “Thank you for coming.”

“That’s what brothers do,” Eddie tells him. Stan sniffles. “Don’t get sentimental on me now, Stan.”

“Shut the fuck up, Eddie,” Stan replies.

“Fuck,” Riley echoes, because it’s her favorite fucking word and she’ll repeat it every chance she gets. Too frequently, as it turns out, which Eddie’s trying to work on, but he figures there’s a better time and place for scolding Stan on that one. He’ll probably get multiple chances tonight.

“I should call Patty,” Stan says.

“You should.”

“And Richie.”

“If you want.” Eddie reaches out, and Stan kisses Riley on the cheek before passing her back over to him. She goes happily, wrapping her arms around Eddie’s neck and burying her face in his throat once he has her. Whenever she or Audrey does something small like that, little and trusting and inadvertently reminding Eddie how lucky he feels to be her father, something fundamental just clicks into place in his chest.

“I think I’m troubled,” Stan says, and it makes Eddie laugh, the light way he says it. Stan starts laughing, too, even as he pulls out his phone and ignores the notifications in favor of dialing Patty straight away.

“I think you just might be,” Eddie agrees.

“Are you okay?” Patty says over the phone. “Stan, I was so worried, where the hell did you go?”

“I’m sorry, I was just— just having a hard time, for a second there, and I didn’t want to freak you out,” Stan says, running his hands through his hair and getting up. He shoots Eddie an apologetic smile before pacing away to mutter into his phone at a distance. Eddie laments the loss of closeness, partially for Stan’s warmth and mostly because he loves eavesdropping on phone conversations.

“Daddy,” Riley says, catching Eddie’s attention and drawing it down to her in his lap. She grabs onto his hands, and he stands her up in his lap, helping her balance on his thighs. She laughs, nearly knocking her forehead into his nose, but he jerks back just in time.

“There you go,” he tells her. She catches his face between her small hands, one on each cheek; he wraps his hands around her torso and holds her up close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she repeats, and pushes her hands further into his cheeks. She gets distracted by the feeling of his scar under her hand and starts examining it, rubbing her fingers all over it. Eddie just sighs and lets her poke and prod, still holding her little body up easily on his thigh.

“What’re you doing?” he asks. She laughs, so he says, “What’re you _ doing?” _in a slightly sillier voice, and she shrieks with joy. Eddie takes the ego boost and blows a raspberry on her cheek just as Stan comes back over.

“Patty’s at you guys’ place with Richie,” Stan informs him. “Did you walk all the way here?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t far,” Eddie says.

“I can give you a ride back,” Stan offers, but Eddie turns him down because there’s no fucking way he’s putting Riley in a car where she’s not in a car seat, even if he’s the one holding her. Stan shrugs and jogs off to his car, and so he beats Eddie and Riley back to the apartment building in a landslide victory.

This is also due in no small part to the fact that Eddie takes his time walking back, lets Riley keep her hat off so the breeze runs through her hair. After a little bit, he lets her try walking a few steps here and there. She’s still catching up to where she’s supposed to be for her age, but she’s going at lightning speeds. Eddie sometimes worries he’ll blink and she’ll be twelve, all of a sudden, or thirty. He’s had very specific _13 Going On 30 _-themed nightmares about waking up old and having thirty-year-old children.

“Look at that,” Eddie says, pointing out a garden of flowers arranged by color. It’s pretty impressive, covering the whole balcony and well-maintained. Riley pats at the closest flower to her hand and accidentally yanks off a bunch of petals, so Eddie hurries his steps before the old couple on the porch notices.

He doesn’t make it back to the building in record time, but Riley is sun-flushed and laughing when he gets in the elevator back up to their floor, which is more important to him on a day like today, weird and sentimental as it’s been.

Sure enough, he’s missed Stan and Patty reuniting, and they’re talking to each other quietly in the living room when Eddie comes in. He offers them a wave and shuffles down the hallway past them and to the kitchen, where he finds Richie leaning against the island. He’s still got Audrey on his hip, but now he’s drinking coffee and pretending he’s not trying to listen down the hall as he drinks his coffee.

“How’d it go?” Richie asks, once Eddie’s kissed him hello and they’ve swapped Audrey and Riley. Audrey nuzzles into Eddie’s shirt and stretches in his hands.

“I think you connected our brains or something, because Stan was having a meltdown about how he’s supposed to be dead, too,” Eddie says. “Except he just got up and left the house, and you tried to get me to make out with you.”

“Hey, hey, _ before _I knew about your necromantic death crisis,” Richie defends himself. “I’d make out with you even in the middle of a necromantic death crisis, Eds, I’m easy for you.”

“You’re fucking something, all right,” Eddie snaps without heat. Richie smiles, pulling Eddie in to kiss softly.

“Drink your coffee,” Richie says. “I’ve got breakfast for you in the oven.”

“I love you so much,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth. Richie chases the kiss, but Eddie’s already gone to grab himself a mug of coffee, leaving Richie laughing behind him.

* * *

Stan and Patty don’t elaborate before they leave, but Patty hugs them both so tightly that Eddie swears he feels the blades of his shoulders grind towards his lungs. He can feel the curve of her belly now, since she’s four months along and visibly pregnant, but it’s such a jarring reminder of the nebulous concepts of life and change and who gets what and what _ life _means that Eddie has to seek Richie out so he doesn’t get lost in his own head.

Richie, for his part, lets Eddie tuck himself under his arm as he hugs Stan one-handed with the other side. They insist they’ll see each other in a few hours, because they will. Family dinner is only a few hours away, when they’ll drive over to Ben and Bev’s house and see how much Parsley has grown in the past week and find out what the cryptic messages Ben keeps sending about a surprise waiting for them tonight are all about.

Stan hugs Eddie hard, the two of them wrapping up completely in each other with Richie’s arm still across Eddie’s shoulders, trapped in between their chests. Stan clings to him, whispers, “Eddie, thank you.”

“You’re alive,” Eddie says, quietly enough that nobody but Stan can hear him, and maybe Richie, if he’s paying enough attention. He probably is, but Eddie continues anyways. “So be alive.”

Stan nods, clutching Eddie tighter. “Embrace what we have.”

“Exactly.” Eddie reaches up, holds the back of Stan’s head in his hand just to get them as close as he can before he finally pulls back. “I’m going to see you in, like, eight hours, fuck, this is ridiculous.”

Stan just laughs at him, hugs him again without making a comment. He still seems raw around the edges, and his eyes are red-rimmed after his conversation with Patty, but they take each other’s hands before they leave and they look at each other with such fucking open adoration that Eddie’s not the least bit concerned. He sighs as the door clicks shut behind them.

“You okay?” Richie asks. Eddie nods, glancing towards the blanket Audrey and Riley are sprawled out on together on the living room floor. Audrey’s on her back, and Riley’s on her belly right next to her, arm slung across her baby sister’s chest. Deep inside Eddie’s chest, his once-still heart seizes up, then keeps on beating, stronger than ever.

“Yeah, I’m alright now,” Eddie says. “Thanks, Rich.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Richie tells him. Eddie sits down on the floor next to the girls, then shuffles down to lay on his side, curving up a little to wrap around them. He hears the floor creak as Richie creeps around him, then catches him a second too late as he takes a picture on his phone.

“Come lay down,” Eddie instructs.

“One more,” Richie replies, and he takes six more before he tosses his phone onto the sofa and curls around the girls on the opposite side. The two of them are like two closed parentheses around their girls, swallowing them up under their crossed arms and bowed heads. Eddie turns his face up into Richie’s draped hand, so close to his nose, then tips his chin up to kiss his fingertips.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him. Richie pretends to swoon, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. The blood that rushes to his face and stains his cheeks isn’t fake, though.

“Oh, Eddie Kaspbrak, sometimes I wish I had a thousand lifetimes,” Richie says, and it’s just enough of a not-real Voice that Eddie tries to think of what he could possibly be quoting. It’s vaguely familiar, and it clicks into place after a moment.

_ “Groundhog Day,” _Eddie says.

“Bingo,” Richie replies, leaning up and over Riley and Audrey to whisper, “Fucking shit, Eds, you’re the perfect man for me,” against Eddie’s lips before he’s kissing him, licking into his mouth and cupping his face. He pulls away after a moment, eyes still lingering closed for a second before he opens them and smiles lazily across at Eddie.

“Fuck,” Eddie murmurs, eyes darting from Richie’s eyes down to his lips. Richie indulges him by kissing him again, softly this time.

“Fuck,” Riley repeats happily, voice a little murky with drowsiness. Richie laughs into Eddie’s mouth.

“She’s your daughter,” Richie reminds him. “You can tell even without genetics, just listen to that vocabulary.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kaspbrak,” Eddie mutters, kissing him again while Riley tugged at their shirts for their attention and Audrey accidentally kicked Richie in the ribs.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) talk to me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon)!


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